


Lilacs

by vjs2259



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-11
Updated: 2007-05-11
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vjs2259/pseuds/vjs2259
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Mother's Day romance, if you can imagine it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lilacs

The weekly staff meeting was coming to a close. John Sheridan pushed back his chair and sighed, “Well, that’s it for today. I’m off to the Zocalo, need to do some shopping.”

“What for, Captain?” asked Ivanova curiously.

Sheridan looked back at her uneasily, and answered, “Mother’s Day is coming up. I need to get something for my Mom. I’ve had the excuse of being on board ship the last few years, but now that I’m stationed somewhere with regular mail service and someplace to shop, I’m for it.”

Ivanova nodded briskly, and replied, “Good luck then. I’ll see you in C&C later.” She left the room a little more quickly than normal.

Sheridan sighed, and remarked, “I hate to mention mothers in front of her. I can’t blame her for feeling uncomfortable when the subject comes up.”

“Why is that, Captain?” asked Stephen Franklin. “Isn’t she close to her mother?”

Garibaldi interrupted, “Her mother’s dead. Suicide. She was just a kid.”

Franklin whistled, “That’s rough. No wonder she doesn’t want to talk about it. Mind if I go with you, Captain? I really need to get a card or something myself. Want to join us, Michael?”

Garibaldi stood and shook his head, “My mother left my Dad and me when I was twelve. I never found out what happened. Excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” He quickly exited the conference room.

Stephen looked at John, and said “I think I just put my foot in it there. Are we the only ones around here with normal parents?”

“What’s ‘normal’ these days?” answered John. “Seriously, I can’t think of what to get her, besides a card, some flowers maybe? I suppose I can order them here and have them delivered to her there. I’m really not good at this, and I’ve skipped the last few years….”

“Well, let’s go together. Maybe we can come up with something.”

The two men chatted and exchanged childhood stories on their way to the Zocalo. In the transport tube, they encountered Londo and G’Kar, bickering as usual, with Vir hovering uncertainly in the background. After exchanging polite greetings, G’Kar inquired, “So where are you off to, Captain? Business or pleasure?”

“We’re shopping for Mother’s Day, Ambassador. It’s a yearly holiday where you give your female parent a gift to thank her for her part in raising you,” answered John.

“What an excellent idea! Still it would seem more appropriate to present the gift to the male who carried you, wouldn’t it?” asked G’Kar.

Everyone stared at the Narn for a moment, except Stephen who nodded in agreement, and answered, “Well, we have a holiday for that too. But it doesn’t work quite the same way with humans, Ambassador. In our case, the female parent gestates the child.”

“Oh yes, I remember hearing that about you. But tell me, Doctor, I always wondered, how does the male know for certain the pouchlings are his own offspring? If our case, after the merging of the reproductive materials, the male takes the young ones and carries them. Both parents know the pouchlings are their own get. How do human males know which young ones are their own?”

As John and Stephen exchanged glances, Londo broke in to say, “What is this fixation with your people have with immediate biological origins? It is surely the family line that is important! The Centauri foster their offspring at the age of five to the highest ranking family member who will take them. We see our fathers once a year when they come to check our progress. I do not think I ever saw my mother since I was fostered, except for the day I was presented at court. That is a wonderful day for a young Centauri, isn’t it, Vir?”

Vir nodded, but added hesitantly, “Actually, I wasn’t fostered until I was fifteen. My parents were somewhat unorthodox in their views on family obligations.”

“You mean they couldn’t find a family member to take you!” broke in Londo with a boisterous laugh. “Never mind, Vir! You are important enough now. Your sons will be fostered quickly enough.”

The transport tube reached the station nearest the Zocalo, and John and Stephen left with some relief. As they reached the main shopping area, Stephen’s link chirrupped. After speaking briefly into it, he said, “Sorry about this, Captain. I have to cut our shopping expedition short. They need me in MedLab Two for a consultation. I’ll come back later and get my card.”

“No problem, I’m sure I’ll find something,” John replied with a smile. He wasn't at all sure about that, but he understood duty came first. He wished this expedition felt less like duty, however. As he wandered from stall to stall, pausing occasionally to speak to one of his people, or one of Bablyon 5's many visitors, he couldn't settle on anything. Then he caught sight of Ambassador Delenn, who was speaking with a florist at a nearby stall. He'd meant to check out flowers anyway, hadn't he? Not to mention he hadn't seen nearly enough of the ambassador since their dinner date a few weeks ago. He didn't count council meetings where her agreeable presence was diluted by the other ambassadors and aides, all with their conflicting wants and needs. Just thinking about it gave him a headache. He quickly moved towards the stall, and greeted her. "Thinking of buying some flowers, Ambassador?"

Delenn turned and saw Captain Sheridan standing close behind her. She flushed delicately and answered, "Hello, Captain. I was inquiring what these particular blooms were called. Their scent is very agreeable, and I have not seen them before."

"Those are lilacs, a flower that blooms in spring-time on Earth. They do smell very nice, don't they? They always remind me of spring back home."

Delenn smiled up at him over the bouquet of flowers, and he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. To cover his confusion, he gently touched the petals, and said "They had a variety of colors here, I see. My grandmother had a lilac bush with these pale lavender flowers, but my mother preferred this darker magenta color. You know," he continued, "Your robes contain all the same colors as the lilacs…" Abruptly he handed the florist his identicard, "Charge this to my account, please." The florist murmured approval, and after processing the transaction, took the bouquet to wrap it more securely. Delenn blushed a deep red, but simply said, "Thank you. They are lovely, and I appreciate the gift." After taking her flowers from the florist, she asked, "What brings you to the Zocalo today, Captain?"

John answered, "I am shopping for a gift for my mother. We have a holiday on Earth, where we offer gifts to our mothers, sort of a yearly thank-you for all their care. Say, maybe you can help me pick something out…I'm hopeless at this."

Delenn thought a moment, and said, "I will try. We have no similar holiday, and I do not know my mother well, but perhaps if we look around, we will see something suitable. When did you last see your mother?"

John wanted to ask why Delenn didn't know her own mother, but was afraid after the encounters with Ivanova and Garibaldi to bring it up. "I haven't been home in over five years now. And I've been aboard ship the last few years and managed only a call home on Mother's Day, if that."

"Something personal then, and something to remind her of you. Perhaps a picture of yourself?"

"That's a great idea! There's a photographer's shop just around the corner. I can get a nice frame…I think she'd really like that. She has a whole wall of pictures of Lizzie and her family, and no recent ones of me."

Delenn smiled at his enthusiasm, and began to make motions of leaving. "Well, I had better be getting back…"

He interrupted her saying, "Won't you come with me? I've always had problems maintaining a smile while they take the picture." He hesitated, then continued, "I, you, that is…"

She wanted badly to comfort him in his inarticulateness, but didn't know how to let him see her sympathy, so she simply continued smiling gently at him. He gathered his courage and finally blurted out, "Your being there will make me smile. Please come, I know it will help if I can be looking at your face when the picture's taken."

She felt helpless to resist his sincere request, even though she felt awkward at the idea of standing behind a photographer providing inspiration while carrying a large bouquet of flowers. It was undignified. But she couldn't seem to say no to this human, especially when he looked at her with that mute entreaty in his eyes. Something inside her melted at that look, and she simply nodded. He offered her his arm in escort, and they walked together to the shop.

The photographer was very pleased to have the commander of Babylon 5 in his studio. He wasn’t sure what the Minbari ambassador was doing there,  but he set up quickly, realizing that Captain Sheridan didn’t have much free time. The overhead digital eyecam was unobtrusive, and with the flexible extending stalk, could take pictures from many angles, transmitting the data to his computer control station. Once they got beyond the standard serious poses, the photographer realized that the Captain wasn’t paying much attention to his instructions. So he asked the ambassador to stand to one side and just talk with the commander. He went back to his workstation and quickly clicked off a series of more casual and candid shots. They say that cameras sometimes take pictures of the future, of what people will look like in times to come. If his lens was any indication, the Captain’s future would involve the Ambassador. His expression changed completely when he looked at her. He longed to turn his camera discreetly to catch the Minbari's expression, but was afraid to try it. He printed out a series of assorted shots and left them to pick one for the gift, while he dealt with another customer.

John and Delenn bent over the digital printouts, trying to decide which pose would please his mother the most. John liked the serious, full size shot, with his hands clasped behind his back, while Delenn preferred a torso shot in which he wore a wide grin. They both hesitated over a close-up where his face wore a wistful expression of longing and hope. Privately Delenn liked it best. She found herself wondering what he had been thinking of when the picture was taken. John decided to get both of the first ones they liked, and after calling the photographer over to order a set of each, they went on to choose frames. John had taken charge of the flowers, which went from looking like a large bouquet in Delenn’s slender fingers to a nosegay in his grasp. As she held up the sample pictures to each frame for his approval, her attention was drawn to his large capable hands. They looked both strong and sensitive, and she found herself wondering what his touch would feel like. She took a deep calming breath and tried to focus on her task. Finally they decided on olivewood frames, with inset bronze accents. He thought they were suitably masculine; she thought they accentuated his eyes. Sheridan paid the charge, then returned her flowers, and picked up his package.

“Well, I had best be getting back to C&C. Thank you for all your help, Ambassador.”

“I enjoyed it, Captain. I hope your mother enjoys her gift. And thank you again for the lilacs.”

“I’m sure she will love it. Thanks again.” With that John left for the tube back to command level.  Delenn stood for a moment, at a loss as to what to do next, when the photographer came rushing out of the store.

“Is Captain Sheridan still here? He forgot some of his pictures. They come as a set, you know, and then there are the sample shots…”

“I can make sure he gets them,” offered Delenn. “I will be seeing him at a council meeting later this afternoon.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” said the man gratefully. “That will save me a trip.”

Delenn took the package from the man, and as she juggled it and the bouquet, one small sample picture fell out. It was the close-up of John, the one where he had the seeking expression she had liked. On impulse, she picked it up, and tucked it away in an inner pocket of her robe. He surely wouldn’t miss one, and it was not a pose he had chosen in any case. She took another sniff of the lilacs, and smiled as she went on her way. The photographer, who had been watching her from the storefront, smiled too. He had always liked a good love story.

 


End file.
